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August 22, 2012

The Great Round of Transformation ― Part Two

Click here to read Part One

The Great Round of Transformation ― Part Two

By Thea Euryphaessa

See the diagram above? Well, it’s a rough roadmap for personal metamorphosis also known as the Hero’s Journey (or Monomyth). My first book dealt primarily with my personal experience of the first two stages ― Separation and Initiation ― finishing up around stage nine; my follow-up, concluding book will deal with the third and final stage ― the Return (stage nine through the top of the circle). I don’t wish to expound on each of the above stages in this blog ― again, that’s for the next book. But that it’s so far taken ten years and counting to complete one full round, shows what’s required should you wish to embark on any aspect of personal transformation ― that it takes time.

Long-term readers from back in the mists of MySpace will know I used to share my life out loud, babbling away as I rushed along. Since writing my book, however, I’ve mostly kept schtum. These days my journal provides the backdrop for my kaleidoscopic thoughts and dreamscapes.

I also got a little lost as to where I was on the above cycle, often forgetting about it altogether; after all, just because I’m aware this archetype currently circumnavigates my life, doesn’t mean I rigidly orient myself to it. You can’t make it happen ― all you can ever do is remain alert to the signs and cues that tend to accompany each of the stages and, if you’re committed to living out your essence, ride the wave as best you can.

In fact, it was only a flurry of synchronous dreams and events last summer that alerted me to the fact that the Resurrection stage (stage eleven above) was constellating.

RESURRECTION

Now, I know this is stating the obvious, but Resurrection consists of two parts ― death and rebirth. Only thing is, it’s one thing knowing that conceptually ― it’s quite another living through the actual, real-life ramifications of it.

This stage is difficult ― damn difficult. I’m talking ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’, bring-you-to-your-knees difficult. No doubt about it, this is Dark Night of the Soul territory. In his book, The Writer’s Journey, Christopher Vogler says that if the Ordeal (stage eight above) is the mid-term exam, then the Resurrection is the final, end of year exam.

Because ― and here’s the thing about personal transformation ― if you’re committed to going the distance, even if you’re not sure where the hell it is you’re going (I still don’t have a clue), there’ll come a final test to see just how serious you are, see if you really did learn from lessons and mistakes made along the way; see how serious you are about this metamorphosis malarkey; see if ― and this is what it ultimately boils down to ― your old self has died.

You see, whatever it is you’re destined to do, you have to be strong enough to do it ― mentally, emotionally, and physically. You have to prove yourself equal to and worthy of it; that you’re willing to do the hard yards; that you’re able to face into it with the strength, grit, and determination required; that you want it no matter how high the odds; that you’re not going to bail out at the first sign of trouble. Trust me, at this stage, Life’s gonna throw just about everything it has at you. I’ve a half mind to rename this stage Canyon of the Wrecking Balls.

Based on my own experience and that of those around me who are also being mentally, physically, emotionally, and psychologically stripped to within an inch of their sanity, this is the place sacrifices have to be made whether we like it or not; where businesses fail and jobs are pulled out from under us; where the knives come out and gossips, detractors, and naysayers seize upon us with a maenadic frenzy; where relationships are stained with tears of disillusion and disappointment; where money dries up along with our motivation; where our health falters and illness descends; where pets die, homes are downsized, and court cases brought against us. And on, and on, and on it goes.

In fact, there’s a hexagram (23) in the I Ching ― the ancient Chinese divination system ― called, among other names, Stripping or Splitting Apart that corresponds with this stage. In Tarot, it’s the grim reaper himself ― Death. During this period, dreams (nightmares) may consist of death, unflinching brutality, dismemberment, great floods, fires, descents to the underworld, and bodies stripped back to the bare bones. What you no longer need will be taken away. This includes material belongings. Relationships, too. After all, we need only look at autumn to see nature stripping back in preparation for the greatest Dark Night of all ― winter.

If, however, you manage to keep from drowning and re-emerge on the other side of this Dark Night (which, by the way, has a tendency to drag its miserable arse out), you will experience rebirth. This is the moment you feel a burgeoning warmth swell deep in your psyche. You may even, perhaps, manage what poet William Stafford describes as, “a breath without pain”. Not everyone makes it this far, though. Many stumble, others give up. Some spend years, decades even, vacillating back-and-forth between Separation (stages one through five) and Initiation (stages five through nine). But that doesn’t make their attempts at growth any less heroic.

I should also say that, for those grappling with terminal illness and disease, rebirth may not necessarily be experienced on this side of Life, but across the veil. Or so I like to believe.

Anyway, what’s the point of me sharing all this? Well, for one, I’m thinking out loud, committing myself publicly. I always knew there’d be a second book ― I just didn’t know what it would consist of as, even while writing my first book, my life felt pretty pedestrian in comparison to my previous globe-trotting escapades. When a client asked me, after reading Running into Myself, “Aren’t you a bit disappointed that, after doing all that, you ended up back in Manchester, back at square one?” I got defensive, saying it hadn’t all been ‘for nothing’… before wondering if he was right.

After all, this was among the criticism levelled at the author of Eat Pray Love, Elizabeth Gilbert, regards the fact that she, too, ends up near enough back where she started (at the other end of the Lincoln Tunnel). Readers of her follow-up memoir, Committed, will no doubt be familiar with her grappling with the consequent Return stage of her journey and its attendant trials and tribulations, before her final, triumphant Return with the Elixir (stage twelve above), which, unbeknown to her at the time, would manifest as a No. 1 New York Times best-seller.

Back in my own life, barely had I pondered such thoughts when the shit hit the fan and the Resurrection stage kicked in throwing a harsh, clarifying light on events leading up to that moment. A year later and the aftershock of those events are only just subsiding and my Dark Night lifting.

And so, in much the same way as the story of the Handless Maiden snaked its way through my three Marathons in Running into Myself, my five-level Tantra journey and personal relationship will provide the backbone for my follow-up book, around which the myth of Psyche and Amor will sinuously coil. Psyche, you see, is a woman who goes the distance despite overwhelming odds. I believe both men and women can learn from this courageous figure who isn’t so far removed from our modern-day lives as we may think.

I also plan to go back and expand, correct, and update some of the thoughts, ideas, and concepts I raised in my first book. In fact, it’s with gleeful relish that I welcome the opportunity to edit myself publicly, as it highlights the often thorny, far-from-straightforward path that is human growth.

This next book will provide me with the opportunity to Return with the Elixir and, finally, close the circle on this particular, ten-year long cycle of personal transformation.

I hope.

:::

To buy a copy of Running into Myself, visit Amazon UKAmazon US or, better still, order a limited edition signed copy direct from her publisher here (also ships worldwide). Also available to download on Kindle.

Thea’s personal journey is utterly compelling. I couldn’t put her book down. Thea manages to make Greek mythology not only understandable, interesting, and relevant to our lives today, but shows how it can be utilised as a tool for self development. She introduces ideas and ways of thinking that broaden your mind, and lights the way for others to follow.”

— Melinda Messenger (TV Presenter)

“This is a story that truly reveals its author. You’ll discover her beliefs, her flaws, her loves, her fears, her mistakes, her drive and her compassion.

And you’ll like her.”

— Rowena Roberts (Writer)

February 5, 2011

Eat Pray Love — Movie Review (DVD Release)

Ahead of the UK DVD/Blu-ray release of Eat Pray Love starring Julia Roberts on Monday 7 February 2011, and for those of you who missed it the first time around, here’s the movie review I wrote for Manchester Confidential last September.

Oh dear.

Even the ever luminous Julia Roberts who, as always, was aided and abetted by her pearly whites, couldn’t smile her way out of this one.

To be fair, it was always going to be a challenge dramatising what is, essentially, an interior journey. Add to that the legion of die-hard fans of the memoir on which this film is based and the heat was clearly on for whoever adapted it for the big screen.

Step forward the creator of hit TV show, Glee, Ryan Murphy; sprinkle a liberal dashing of good-looking blokes throughout; fold an assortment of lush, mouth-watering backdrops into the mix; set a Hollywood star on top; bake for an arse-numbing two hours and twenty minutes, et voilà! — you end up with this pile of tripe.

Roberts plays Liz Gilbert, a writer, who after several years of marriage and all the trappings of a successful career and lifestyle, decides this isn’t the life she envisioned for herself and wants out. After crying her eyes out to God on the bathroom floor one night, she decides to divorce her loving and seemingly innocuous husband, Stephen (Billy Crudup), and embark on a year-long quest of self-discovery. But not before she enjoys a rebound relationship with David (James Franco) — an actor Gilbert meets after watching him perform in a play she wrote.

After this relationship quickly deteriorates for reasons we’re never quite sure, she confides to her friend, Delia (Viola Davis), that she’s ‘lost her appetite for life’ and longs to ‘marvel at something.’

Soon after, she’s on her way. First of all, she spends several months in Rome, rediscovering the Art of Pleasure. For her, this entails learning the language and devouring all the gelato, pasta and wine she can. Cue countless close-ups of Roberts indulging in mouthful after mouthful of food. Oh, and young couples snogging at every turn. Because, of course, that’s all Italians ever do. Next is India, where she practises the Art of Devotion studying and praying in an ashram. Here she meets a fellow worshipper called Richard, played by a scene-stealing Richard Jenkins, who nicknames her ‘Groceries’ (because she eats so much) and sets her straight with a few spiritual home-truths.

She rounds off her year seeking balance (between pleasure and devotion) beneath the balmy skies of Bali. Here she parties hard with another hot young guy, before finally falling in love with an older Brazilian man called Felipe (Javier Bardem). I’m familiar with the book, but to be honest, was confused by the disjointed direction this movie took.

When not smiling beatifically and bathed in an ethereal golden halo of backlight, Roberts spends the rest of her time wearing a glib, monotone expression. But no-one’s buying it. Gilbert’s character is just too superficial to really care about. Here’s a travel writer with a self-confessed, forty-nine stamps in her passport, who longs to ‘marvel at something.’ “Lady,” I thought, “if you haven’t marvelled at anything by now, you ain’t never gonna get it.”

Then there’s the small matter of her ‘risking everything’ — but risking what, exactly? What the film fails to mention is Ms. Gilbert received a $200,000 advance from her publisher to write the book documenting her year-long sojourn.

I have no issue with the advance — she was an established writer with several successful books behind her. What I take umbrage with is the studio’s false premise and advertising tagline about ‘risking everything.’ Risk doesn’t come lined with an advance and the remainder of your belongings stowed in a lock-up somewhere. Pressure to come up with the goods, yes. Risk — nope, not buying it.Which leads me to another point: if I know I have to report back with a book documenting my shenanigans, what I’m not going to do is lie on a beach all day every day contemplating the meaning of life, while picking fluff out of my belly button: I’m going to be out there, looking for the story — meeting people, throwing myself into situations, creating moments. And it’s this air of contrivement that permeates every single scene of the movie.

Everything just seems so convenient and well, staged. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a film so self-aware. Perhaps it should come as no surprise that America’s Home Shopping Network partnered with the movie’s production company, Sony, to launch a three-day marketing campaign selling products themed around the movie.

Movies are larger-than-life and often exaggerated and fantastical. But Murphy and his co-writer Jennifer Salt have taken the essence of the original story, removed any trace of nuance, and blown it up into a saccharine, schmaltzy caricature of itself with our heroine sailing off into the sunset of newfound coupledom. After all, that’s What Women Want, right?

4/10

(Editor’s note: Thea Euryphaessa is author of Running into Myself: A Journey Through the Soul of the Feat (runningintomyself.com) – a book about her own quest for self-discovery. Hence she knows all about the ‘Eat Pray Love’ experience although she didn’t get a $200,000 advance.)


June 20, 2010

Running into Myself: A Journey Through the Soul of the Feat – Preface

The following excerpt is taken from Urban Deva founder, Thea Euryphaessa’s recently released memoir Running into Myself: A Journey Through the Soul of the Feat. If you’re a fan of Eat Pray LoveElizabeth Gilbert’s international best-seller and soon-to-be motion picture starring Julia Roberts, or Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ now classic New York Times best-seller Women Who Run with the Wolves, we recommend this incredible true story of one woman’s rite of passage from girl- to womanhood.

Limited edition signed copies of the book are available to buy direct from the publisher here (also ships overseas). The book is also available in the United States at Amazon.com.

Preface (Return with the Elixir)

I am telling myself the story of my life, stranger than song or fiction.

- Paddy McAloon, I Trawl the Megahertz


This book is an attempt to disentangle my destiny from my fate. It’s about a long-overdue, threshold-crossing to womanhood. And it marks The Return – the third and final stage of my initiation, fulfilling an old agreement made with my soul. It’s not a book about running. I run, yes, but that’s not the point of this book. In fact, there is no particular ‘point.’ Points seem contrived, convenient and conclusive. And my journey has been anything but.

Oftentimes the only way to make sense of a life and give it meaning is to share it within the context of a story. Some are supremely gifted at this. They have a knack, make it look easy. I wish this had been so for me. Composing this book has been a painstaking process, demanding all my mental and emotional resources.

I enjoy writing. After dancing, it’s my most natural means of self-expression. But it’s a means to an end. My focus is to nurture the soul and live an authentic life. To help do this I write – not to be creative, but to express energy. Writing helps mirror myself to myself; it provides a container in which the transformative process can unfold, a way to track and trace the soul’s meanderings.

Once thoughts, images and intuitions are on the page, I sort through them, hold them up to the light for reflection, turn them over in my mind. Like dreams, they don’t always make sense – at least not immediately. They can be vague, indecisive and contrary. I also find the flat, one-dimensional nature of words frustrating. They restrict and rigidify. They’re inadequate at expressing the fullness and ambiguity of a human life. But they intrigue and enchant me all the same. And so I keep writing.

Further challenges involve my perfectionist tendencies. I like everything just so. I much prefer writing essays. That way, I can retain absolute control over a piece, stay on point. So to make the leap to the rambling expanse of a book exposes my weaknesses and shortcomings as a writer. In composing this book I’ve had to accept my work can never be perfect. I often lose my way, veer off track – a humbling process mirroring the soul’s journey as it grows down and takes root within the limitations of a human life.

Then there are those whose fate has entwined with mine. There’s an old saying in alchemy: As Without, So Within. I believe those with whom we interact are outer reflections of an inner psychic process. Because of this emotional entanglement, I know my perspective will be distorted. To compensate, I try to be as honest as possible about my version of events. If I’ve been petulant, infantile or provoking, I’ll say so. Sometimes emotions may get the better of me and I’ll speculate about others’ behavioural patterns and traits. But for the most part, I rein it in.

So this book is a story within stories, a life within Life. Life that does not run in an orderly, linear fashion, but spirals, backtracks, spins off at tangents and raises more questions than it answers. Not everything will be boxed off and neatly concluded by the end of the book. Along the way I share pivotal moments, hopes and dreams, setbacks and journal entries. There are mythological ideas, psychological theories and spiritual concepts. These may not always make sense. As the quote above says, I’m telling myself the story of my life. So if I labour a point or circle an issue, it’s more a frustrated attempt to clarify my soul’s nebulous, inarticulate messages, to ascertain a pattern, extricate meaning.

This book also reflects the organic process of a life’s unfolding and becoming. Intuition tells me this is a book within books, a springboard – an opportunity to share, and discuss. Not all of my thoughts and ideas are carved in stone. Many are ephemeral. But I don’t have time to wait until they’re fully formed – my soul demands expression now.

In tribal cultures, when an initiate returns home after a quest they’re expected to share their experiences. That’s because the lessons learnt aren’t strictly for the individual but for the benefit of the group. As the initiate tells their story, the story takes on a life of its own, its essence revealed. People don’t think of stories as having souls. But the soul manifests as the kinks and knotty imperfections – the seeming irregularities that perplex so many. In our ‘plastic fantastic.’ high-speed modern culture, we’ve lost touch with the soul. We’re uncomfortable with it. In many cases we’re afraid of it. And so we rampantly edit, refine and process until nothing remains but a soulless shell. But grainy mishaps highlight our humanness. They add warmth, remind us of our imperfection. They expose the vulnerability involved in the process of creativity, the struggle of a complicated, multifaceted soul seeking expression.

My decision to self-publish honours the soul’s wrinkles and knotty irregularities. I didn’t want the book’s essence to be extracted in the centrifuge of profit-driven publishing  or shoe-horned into an unnatural shape, its soul contaminated and diluted by the uninitiated opinions of others. I wasn’t willing to compromise. As the song says:

I’ll go it alone, that’s how it must be

I can’t be right for somebody else

If I’m not right for me

I gotta  be free, I’ve just gotta be free

Daring to try, to do it or die

I’ve gotta be me.

-Walter Marks, I’ve Gotta Be Me

And so I follow my soul as it sets out its stall in the early chapters. I watch as it introduces itself and reiterates statements time and again before gradually relaxing into the story. Sometimes I cringe at its audacious, naive, bombastic nature. I ponder its uptight, defensive, secretive tendencies. Other times I grow bored with its incessant ramblings, wonder where it’s going. But all the while I stay with it, try to honour its paradoxical, elusive essence as best I can.

So I encourage the reader to relax and not to get too hung up or too bogged down in my mercurial meanderings. As psychologist Carl Jung says in his memoir Memories, Dreams, Reflections, ‘I can only make direct statements, only “tell stories.” Whether or not the stories are “true” is not the problem. The only question is whether what I tell is my fable, my truth.’

(Thea Euryphaessa is hereby identified as the author of this work in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988.)

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